Chapter Thirty-Two
Iwoke up in my bed and looked at my phone. It was still early in the morning, and my flight was late that evening. I had the whole day to pack, but honestly, I didn't care an inch about the trip. I was ready to be back already.
I remembered our kiss yesterday and groaned. My alcohol-spiked brain thought it was so romantic, sensual even. In my relatively fresh brain, I guessed it was more grabby and needy than romantic and sensual. I hoped Arthur didn't feel the same. Although, Arthur was on a cookie he had snatched from that plate. So I was sure his ability to remember would have been even worse than mine.
One major advantage of Miranda's Punch was that there was no hangover, ever. Only tired limbs from excessive dancing. I decided to pretend nothing had happened. When I saw Arthur the next time I would tease him as usual. There was a big chance he'd follow my lead. But ... I liked when he kissed me. I liked being in his arms.
I'd have more time with him when I was back from that damned Sri Lanka trip. And maybe, just maybe, he'd kiss me again.
My phone pinged. Arthur.
The text said: I NEED COFFEE. Do you? I can come over with take-out.
I looked around. My apartment was on the tidier side this time of the week. It was a decent-size condo, with a spacious living room, a bedroom, and my library-slash-home office. White walls framed the whole space, and the patio opened to a view of the ocean. Miranda said that I had to try to live in a house. But I loved it there, and anyway, in a few months, I would pack up everything and go globetrotting.
I texted Arthur my address and ran into the bathroom. Astonishingly, I managed to remove make-up the night before when I stumbled back into the apartment. I washed my hair and stood for five minutes in front of my wardrobe deciding what to wear.
Finally, I put on an oversized black T-shirt with a heavy metal band logo and knee-length leggings. I would act as if nothing had happened, I told myself as I looked in the mirror. My still damp hair lay over my right shoulder and I looked like a teenage skater in the outfit, but I didn't care.
The doorbell rang, and my heart skipped a beat. I knew it was just Arthur, but my heart leaped all the same. The man who I enjoyed talking to, not just being wrapped up in his arms. I nodded to myself and went to open the door.
"Hey," he said. There were two cups of coffee and a box of donuts in his hands.
"Come on in."
He walked inside and looked around. He was not the first man to stand in my apartment, but he was the first I actually enjoyed seeing there.
Arthur placed the cups on the counter and cleared his throat.
"I hate that you're leaving today," he said and walked to me.
"Yeah."
He was not looking at me as though nothing had happened the day before. He was looking as though it was just the beginning.
Arthur slowly traced the skin on my neck with his fingertips.
"Where is your sharp tongue to stop me?" he asked, his eyes on mine.
"Maybe I don't want you to stop."
He grinned, and I cut the space between us by walking right into his arms, finding his lips. I acted completely at odds with what I had decided. It was so perfectly familiar and delightfully new. I scratched my nails along the base of his neck, pulling our kiss deeper.
I didn't know how much I needed it until it happened. Until his lips were pressed to mine and a burning thirst flailed down my stomach, as his fingers slowly traced the skin under my shirt. As he unhooked my bra and cupped my breast. I didn't make a sound until he gently rubbed the skin around my nipple. It quickly became hard under his fingertips. A light moan escaped me, and he stopped kissing me.
"Are you sure you want that?" he whispered into my neck, as his fingers slowly slid down the skin of my stomach.
"No, let's drink tea instead," I said, and brushed my hand over his pants.
"Tea sounds good," Arthur murmured, as his fingers lazily circled around my belly button.
"You sure?"
This time he groaned as I rubbed the length of him through his pants.
"I can offer you something slightly better than tea," I said and took off my shirt.
"Where is the bedroom?" he said, his voice gruff, eyes on my breasts.
I took his hand and led the way.
He didn't look away from me as I stopped and dragged his shirt off. Slowly scraping the fair skin of his flat abdomen, tracing the light hair running down and hiding in his pants, I took off my leggings.
I was standing only in my panties in front of him, my hair spilling over my breasts, breathing hard. Arthur cradled me in his arms as if I were made of glass, trying to rein in his craving. His lips studied every inch of me—his teeth finally scraping the base of my throat. He paused between my breasts, looking up at me, as my fingers roamed his muscled shoulders.
"I feel your heartbeat," he whispered before catching my nipple between his lips and gently tugging. His fingers slid down my ribs.
With shaking hands I unzipped his pants and wrapped my fingers around him, the shock of touch making him pause. I gently rubbed my finger over the top of him, his softest skin under my fingertips—a slow tremble running through his body.
Before I could say anything, he kissed me again and lowered his fingers between my thighs. He moved the fabric of my panties away and rubbed my most sensitive part. I was shamelessly wet.
In a moment I was lying on my back, my panties on the floor, as he widened my knees and went down on me. His rough tongue caressed the parts of me that swelled and pulsed under his touch. He devoured me as his finger went slowly in and out of me. He was hungry, as though he hadn't eaten in years, and I was oh so willing to be his meal. I was quick, arching my back and climaxing after a few sweet minutes.
He curved his eyebrow. "So fast? You're making it too easy, Emily."
"Let's see how long you'll last," I said, still breathing quickly.
When I put him in my mouth, he groaned. He gently gathered my hair as I started moving. All that time he continued to watch me, intently. He was close, but I stopped and moved to my bedside table, taking out a condom. I slipped it on and climbed on top of him.
I rode him slowly, watching the madness growing in his eyes. He roamed his fingers over my body, as I bent back, and he rubbed his thumb where I needed it. His constant rubbing made me move faster, and faster. His fingers guided my hips, as my dark hair spilled onto his white skin. A sharp spasm of pleasure seized me and I collapsed on top of him. Arthur followed me just seconds later.
We breathed hard.
"I would rather have the tea," he said, and I punched him lightly.
But he only hugged me closer.
* * *
He was happy, I could see it in his eyes as we sat on my patio overlooking cerulean water. The coffee was cold by the time we left the bedroom and returned to the kitchen. So it was tea with the donuts.
I wore a silky gray gown, while he put his clothes back on.
Arthur looked at me over the cup he held. He drank his tea with milk like a proper British man should, for me it was just a plain green. I was ravenous. Soon, chocolate from the donut stained my fingers.
"I see why you choose living here instead of a house. No house could have such a view," he said.
I nodded. "My lease is running out in a few months, you can move in," I said.
His eyes grew darker for a second. "Where are you moving?"
"It's time to follow the dream I've had for years—I want to work remotely from all over the world. When I was growing up, my Dad and I were homebodies, comfortably tucked away in our house. He didn't like to travel, and it's not like we ever had enough money anyway. Later I studied and my career moved me up in the world. Now that I have the means, and my new company encourages its employees to work remotely, it's time I sit somewhere on the white sand with a laptop on my knees."
"You know it's impossible to work like that, right? The sand ruins laptops, and don't even mention how the glare from the sun messes with your eyes," Arthur said.
"I know, I know, but I want to try to be that person in the picture I have in my mind—just for a while. The one sitting under the palm tree with a laptop. Or in a café in Paris. Or a pub in Prague."
He snorted. "It would be impossible to work there too, among the drunk tourists."
"Maybe, but I've always dreamed of trying."
And it was easy. I had a whole plan built up. But that was before I met Arthur. Not that it changed anything, not that we were something serious. No, I was a distraction from his work, and he was ... a friend. I blushed as I remembered how he tasted.
"Why do you want to travel?" he asked, his eyes looking deep into mine. "To me, it just seems like a new trend—people boasting about their travels on social media, collecting likes from envious followers. What is it for you? Freedom?"
I looked out at a seagull that circled in the sky.
"It's more to prove to myself that I can. Apart from all the places and cultures I want to see, it'll show that I'm independent enough to ... do it. And do it without help."
It was certainly not because I told the girl I loved that I had wanted it, and that it was finally time to prove that I could do it without her. During those dark hours of the night when I was wrapped around her, that soft vanilla scent caressing me, I dreamed that we would travel together, work all around the world. And when I mentioned it once, she had looked at me intently, with those huge grey eyes, knowing perfectly well that Jake would not come with us. I saw how she wanted it, how she shared my dream. It was certainly not to prove to someone I hadn't seen in years that I could do it myself.
"You're one of the most independent women I've ever met, and when I found out that you didn't have a supportive family and an array of friends to help you, it just proved the point," Arthur said and gestured around at my space. "Look at where you live, at your job, at the company and your product. You built it all yourself. That fire burning in you got you where you are now. And with only that mad couple as friends, God, you are the definition of independent."
I laughed. "They aren't mad."
"That"s not the point. You are strong, Emily, you are strong without needing to prove anything to anyone. Please remember that."
He didn't know me that well, we were ... I didn't know what we were, but he spoke to me like no one had before. He sincerely believed his words. And I wanted to believe them too. I stood up and walked to the edge of the patio, looking out on the water.
"When is your flight?" he asked.
"10 PM."
"I'll drive you to the airport. What time should I pick you up?"
I turned to him.
"Stay." My voice was quiet. "Please."
He sharply looked at me. "Of course."
Arthur stood up and in a few moments, he caught a strand of my hair, looking deep into my eyes. He didn't say anything before he kissed me, deeply, his hands tangled in my hair.
"Come," he whispered in my ear, taking my hand and leading me back to the bedroom.
He parted my gown and slowly traced down my stomach. I didn't move as his fingers glided up to my breasts, to my collarbone, to my neck, as he slipped the gown over my shoulders. He laid me on my bed so delicately, treating me like a fragile creature. And his lips ... oh, god, his lips. They paused on my neck, as they slowly traced down. My skin burned where he kissed me.
I had a crazy urge to drag my fingers over the places he kissed, and I moved to touch the softness of my breast. Arthur paused and watched my fingers circling around the dark skin. He placed his knee between my thighs and moved up to find my lips, my tongue greedily finding his.
And then he lowered his lips to the place my fingers had been just moments ago. He bit me lightly, and a soft sound escaped my lips. I slid a little lower and ground my hips into his knee. He teased me slowly, and my need burned. He played with my ribs, my outer thighs, squeezing my hips, making me rub his leg more, and it was almost enough.
And then it wasn't. Because when he lowered his fingers and slid them over me slowly, teasingly, a loud moan escaped me.
"Oh, you could have just asked," he murmured, circling his fingers, as my hips moved to guide him.
I was too far gone, as Arthur covered every gasp with his lips. And then again, right as I was on the brink, he entered me, and it was better than anything I could hope for. All my senses came to life as I scratched his back, as I looked him in the eyes when he was above me, my fingers digging into his short hair.
We lost it. Messy, loudly, sweaty, together.
I lay in his arms, my back pressed to his chest. His fingers lightly traced my skin.
"Can I cancel Sri Lanka?" I asked. "I want to stay here."
Every word I said was so pleasantly tired. He rested his warm hand at the bottom of my stomach.
"Sleep, Emily. I'll wake you up with enough time to pack," he murmured in my ear.
I waved slowly. "Nah, I'm staying here with you."
He was silent as I drifted off to sleep. Sometime before I fell into nothingness he said quietly: "I wish you would."
* * *
I opened my eyes to the dying light outside. Something had changed. I was covered with a light blanket and my cheek was pressed into something warm and solid—it moved with each breath. His chest. An arm circled my waist. I lifted my face to him, and he looked down.
"Hey you," he said quietly.
I propped myself up on my elbow and lowered my lips to his. His reply was slow and seductive.
"Can I keep you?" I asked.
"For what?"
His hand got lost in my hair, as he gently rubbed the base of my neck.
"For this," I said and closed my eyes, leaning into his touch.
"My services are pretty expensive," he said.
"I'll take a loan."
"We could work something out," he took a deep breath and traced his lips over my chin. "It's time for you to pack."
I groaned.
And he laughed, the sound so beautifully joyful that I raised my eyebrows.
"I'm just flattered that you'd rather stay with me in bed than go to Sri Lanka. I know what I'm comparing myself to, Sri Lanka is a paradise," Arthur said.
"You are an arrogant Brit," I said, smiling. But he was right. I would gladly trade my trip to stay with him. And it was not only the sex ... I pushed the thought away.
I stood up and fished my gown from the floor. But right before I tied it, I looked at Arthur. He was watching me, propped up on his elbow. I parted the gown, and he raised a brow as his eyes roamed the sliver of my skin it showed.
I stuck my tongue out before tying it. Arthur laughed. I watched his face, it was somehow different. The usual hard lines around his lips relaxed, a soft crinkle appeared around his eyes. I shook my head as I went to the bathroom, running a hot shower.
When I looked at my phone after exiting the bathroom, steam following me, I gasped. I only had two hours before I had to leave for the airport. And I was so not ready.
I was a tornado rushing through my apartment for the next two hours, trying to decide what I needed to pack. I only paused when I entered the bathroom while Arthur was taking a shower. I honestly had to fight the urge to drop everything and climb in with him. But I made myself open the cabinet instead, take a bottle of lotion, and march away.
He sat quietly on my patio as I threw my clothes into a yellow suitcase. Typing something into his phone, his brow creased.
And I wanted to take away that crease, whatever bothered him with his work. And that thought was disturbing. It meant I cared. And I didn't want to care. Care often turned into something more powerful. I shook my head, trying to erase the thought because it didn't help to overthink something that was not even real.
But I did go up to him and put my hand on his shoulder. He stopped typing and looked from the screen to me.
He smiled softly and squeezed my hand. As I walked inside I looked back, he was typing again, but his brow wasn't creased anymore.